Metempsychosis
by guillotineghosties
Summary: PwP; Afraid that Adachi will one day find a woman his own age, the protagonist falls under the influence of Izanami and allows her Persona free reign over her body to do with him what she will. As it turns out, Izanami has her own business with Izanagi to take care of. Special thanks to cassius for beta reading for me!


It'd only taken a single, idle comment from her uncle to shove the protagonist into a train of thought she'd been avoiding, but when he continued the conversation, the metaphorical locomotive was already locked and accelerating.

"Shouldn't you be looking for a wife already, Adachi? You're just a few years shy of thirty now."

She set down her chopsticks and looked away from the drunken conversation at the dinner table, pretending to watch Nanako color in her school book instead. The smaller girl was none the wiser to the grown up's conversation, gliding the tip of a black crayon under the lines of a cat with its paw in a fishbowl.

"Dojima-san, come on, I don't want to even think about that sort of thing!" Adachi was trying to maneuver away from the subject, possibly having sensed the hostility forming at the opposite end of the table. He had a decent buzz going tonight, and didn't particularly want to spoil the mood with the jealousy of a teenage girl being slapped in the face with reality.  
"You know me. I'm married to my work, remember?"

"A job isn't going to love you back. Adachi, that's an abusive relationship."

Adachi inwardly scowled. _You would know._

"I tell you what." Dojima opened a pack of cigarettes, placed one into his mouth, and lit it. "Once this case is over, I'll take you to the one of the finer bars in the city. You can probably meet some half decent girls there. There's no need in you depriving yourself."

"Well, that's generous of you, Dojima-san…" Adachi didn't say anything else from there, and patiently waited for his boss to take a drag of nicotine and spin the mental roulette of conversation again.

The possibility of Adachi one day finding someone his age would already creep up on the protagonist sometimes, when Adachi would invite her to his place late at night and have her sneak in through the window as to evade the eyes of his neighbors.  
She'd shovel the idea into the back of her mind and bury it with her homework due the next morning when he would pull her in, shut the blinds, unplug the lamp with a broken knob, and tell her in the most yearning voice that he was glad she could make it and that he'd been thinking about her all day.  
By the time they were unclothed and his hands were roaming along her body, the fear was just an afterthought washed away in the present sea of lustful affection.

But hearing those words from her uncle's mouth unearthed those insecurities and now that they'd been dissipated into the air, she couldn't bottle them back up and shelf them away.

And with Dojima of all people reminding her of the mortality of their relationship, another realization hit her with the force of a hammer to the head.

Dojima would never accept their relationship. Even if it continued up until she was an adult, no way would her uncle ever buy that they hadn't carried out some kind of secret affair when she was still underage. He'd view Adachi as some sort of pedophile that preyed on his innocent, doe eyed niece who knew no better and was thirsty for attention from an older man because of her own parents' lack of involvement in her life.

Suddenly, she felt angry at their circumstances.  
They didn't talk about the subject of "us" much, but Adachi had told her that he loved her, so he wanted this to continue, too, didn't he?  
Of course he did. He treasured her because she was more mature than "those other high school girls" and because she held insight beyond her peers at the cruelties of the world.  
He liked when she agreed that the old woman at Junes was an annoyance and that she was "cold for a kid".

So he wanted to stay with her, even beyond her year in Inaba…right?

Cycling through these questions again and again, repeating them with no answer, made the protagonist feel sick to her stomach, and so she turned in early for the night, weighing whether or not she should express her concerns him the next they were alone.

Her worrying had reach its boiling point two days later. The thoughts were nagging at her throughout school, and any effort to take out her stress on the shadows in the TV world only earned her questions from her teammates.

"Are you alright, senpai?"  
"Partner, you look like something is really bothering you…do you wanna talk about it?"

Of course she didn't want to talk about it.  
They wouldn't have understood.

They would have looked at with a mixture of pity and disgust, wondering just how low her self-esteem had to be to date a man almost a decade older than her. They would have tried to "help" her as if she'd been coaxed into a trap like a small child to a stranger offering her sweets.  
But it wasn't like that.  
She wasn't even sure that _she_ knew why she was so drawn to Adachi. He set well with her soul above all—and her Persona.  
Izanami fluttered in her heart when she was around him, and filled her body with pure bliss when they would lay next to each other in the afterglow of sex.

That was when she brought it up. "Adachi-san?" She turned to him, waiting for a response before trekking further.

He sighed, shoulders slouching and chest deflating. "Yeah?"

Maybe he was tired and now wasn't a good time. What was she thinking? He'd been busy with work lately, and—

"What's going to happen when I leave next year?"  
_Dammit, why am I doing this?_

"What do you mean?" He turned to her and propped himself up on his elbow. "You'll go back to the city and I'll still be here. There isn't anything either of us can do about it."

She should have dropped it at that, but she _couldn't_ there was a sudden hunger for reassurance. To just _know_ that he wasn't going to let her go so easily.

"I mean…" She tried to tie the words together eloquently. "What's going to happen with us? You want to still be with me, don't you?"

Adachi looked at her with sympathetic eyes and reach over to comb his fingers through her hair. "Of course I do. But I'm sure there are plenty of boys your age in the city who will sweep you off your feet when you go back, and you're so young that—"

She lightly shook her head. "I don't want any of those boys. They're stupid. You said I'm different than the girls my age, so why would they ever be enough for me…"

"Well, then." There was a drop of agitation in his voice now. "I guess we'll just figure it out as we go, but don't stress it."

But she _was_ stressing about it, searching for something—_anything_—in his dull expression that would signify _something _assuring her that their bond wouldn't just evaporate when it wasn't convenient anymore.

She wanted to question him further, to ask, "what about my uncle? Will we ever tell him?" or, "are we going to get married one day?"  
But those questions were miles away from even being present worries, and she knew that, but they stabbed at her behind her eyes until they hurt.

"Hey, don't look so sad. You're too cute to cry, you know." Adachi sounded almost panicked, like he was afraid that this girl was going to lose control of her hormone driven emotions and burst into a sobbing, snotty mess on his bed.

"I'm not crying," She retorted, a little too quickly, latching her arms around his torso and burying her face in his chest.

He sighed again, as if holding her were some great chore now that he'd gotten off earlier, and pet her head. Or was that her imagination?

"I love you, okay? I mean it. Don't be sad."

Now the stabbing, tearing pain had migrated to her throat and she couldn't form a response for fear of her voice cracking.  
Despite his words, she was terrified, even though she knew she had no reason to be.

Adachi was telling her the truth.

He really did love her.

He really did want to be with her and wanted to work through this as the need arose, so why was she feeling hurt? Like he was going to betray her? Like the moment she stepped on the train to go back home, she'd just be a memory for him to jerk off to?

The protagonist couldn't shake the feeling, further churning the mix of paranoia and intuition that haunted her when she was at her most doubtful.

Izanami was raging in her heart now, uncontrollable, as if she were going to burst through her skin at any moment now and before the girl could protest, the words were out of her mouth at the will of a force greater than herself, in a darkened, sinister voice that didn't belong to her.

"I don't want you to betray me ever again."

When he came to, his hands were bound behind his back, the two inch chain of his cuffs keeping him leashed to the frame of his bed, shackles looped through the bars of the top piece.  
He couldn't see them, but he was sure that these were _his_ handcuffs and that the brat had dug them out of his pants pocket whenever she…did whatever it was she did to knock him unconscious.

But the sensation of being hit across the head with blunt force was suspiciously absent, and he felt no traces of sedatives in his body—he hadn't even consumed anything since getting takeout earlier that day.

He was still in his room. That much he could confirm, at least, but the protagonist was missing and his door was shut.  
She had to be out of her mind. One of those clingy high schoolers who was set on dating an older man and lock them in for themselves—not that Adachi felt he had other prospects.  
He wanted to tell himself that this wasn't like her, but he knew all too well the art of concealing madness. He'd only been naïve enough to think that she didn't have the substance.

While she wasn't present, he was going to try to devise a plan to get out of this mess, throw his clothes back on, and have her arrested for seducing an officer, but heat filled his body and a voice told him that he was in trouble and that it was useless to try to escape.

_This is our punishment._

The door swung open and hit the wall, probably gashing a hole into it.  
He'd have to pay for that and the landlord was already a bitch to him.

"This is disgusting!" The protagonist entered the room with a hiss, still unclothed, with new found shamelessness for walking about his house in the nude, causing his flaccid cock to involuntarily twitch. Her voice-no, that wasn't the soft, innocent voice of a teenager smitten in love. It was the voice of a woman on a rampage. She was holding a magazine, one of the more explicit issues of his collections as he instantly recognized the cover—a big breasted model with see-through lingerie.

Yellow eyes darted over to him, sharp enough to cut right through him.

"Hey, put that back!" Adachi snapped at her, and metal clattered below him when he attempted to jerk his body forward.

"_This_ is what you occupy your time with?" No, there was something else about her voice, too, now, and those eyes—was she under the influence of a shadow? Was _she_ a shadow? No, that would have been impossible, given the fact that they weren't in the TV world. He would be able to sense it if they were.

"This is filthy!" She continued, ripping it in half clear down the middle and tossing it to the side. He looked away, grumbling something about having that magazine since he was a student.

"I'm so disappointed in you."

She was on top of him next, straddling his lap, giving him an unamused, dull expression as she grabbed him by the hair to force their eyes to meet. His hard on brushed up against her and he cringed, for the first time in his life not wanting to get aroused around a naked girl.

"Is even this body not enough for you?" She sighed, bringing her hands to her breasts, squeezing the large mounds of flesh for emphasis.  
He couldn't look away.  
He _did_ like the set of tits on her. They were a little too big for her small frame, though—not that he was complaining.

His chest was on fire now, and for the first time since discovering the power that gave him domain over the world of shadows, Magatsu Izanagi was thrashing in the sea of his soul for release.  
Adachi grunted in resistance. As if he could use his Persona in the real world.

She sighed heavily, rocking her lower body so that his hardening cock was brushing against her wet folds. "I'm the only woman you need, you know. If you ever touch another girl…" She pressed her forehead to his, tears streaming down her resolute, solemn expression. "I'll have no choice but to kill her and feed her body to the shadows so that no trace of her existence is left. You understand, don't you?"

Her grip on his hair softened, and she moved her hand to cup his cheek. "You know I'd move the heavens for you. So don't resist me." Her pale lips curled back into an inhuman smile and, awaiting no response, she moved in to kiss him.

He didn't even try to keep his mouth shut; when she glided her tongue between his lips, he closed his eyes and returned the passionate gesture with a will that was only half his. His body reacted on its own, a power surging through his veins pushing him to do this.

Magatsu Izanagi was settling down now, twisting himself into Adachi's psyche and turning any resistance into static. He realized then that—no, this wasn't the girl he'd had sex with early that night, who was moaning under him to fuck her with all his strength; not with the way she was now grazing her teeth against his lower lip when they parted though heated breaths.  
Her Persona had to be doing the same thing to her. And it had to be Izanami.

He wondered briefly if she was powerless to stop the strings puppeteering her delicate frame, or if she was indulging in this, reveling in the fact that their Personas were tied so deeply together that she could do anything she wanted to him. That she practically owned him.

It didn't matter. Because he owned her first, as the girl less than half his size that he could physically overpower with a single hand. And she'd still give him that loving look in her otherwise empty eyes that were always judging otherwise.

Izanami seemed satisfied with the kiss, and the protagonist's body was trembling with anticipation now. She was controlling the girl's body freely, who had offered no hesitation in giving her physical form over to the goddess.

She reach down to stroke Adachi's length, which had already risen to full size under her. The head was beaded with precum; she smeared it over him with her thumb.  
He shivered and let out a sharp gasp.

She pressed it over clit, then slowly moved it to her entrance.

_Yes, this is ours. This belongs to us. It is on his body to please us. _

She steadied herself, hands on his shoulders, and lowered herself onto him until she completely sheathed his cock, the tip of the thick member lodged against her womb. She kept him there, and he shivered at how her walls tightened against him.

"What do you want?" She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Izanagi…"

Adachi panted, wanting to tell her to move already and to ride him until she'd he came so much his balls would go dry, but the words wouldn't form in his throat.  
His voice was paralyzed. He grit his teeth. Damn it.

"Izanami, _move_."

Enchanted by the demanding tone that was undeniably the ancient god she'd been coaxing, the protagonist's body followed his command.

She didn't hesitate to moan in pleasure when she bounced her hips onto him, gasping when the head of his cock rouged into her cervix and caused her walls to spasm against his thickness.  
These weren't their true forms, but their unity still coursed pleasure into her heart— and it hurt.  
Damn, did it hurt. Enough to take Izanami off guard (it was painful for her host sometimes, and now she understood why—that was too small to be taking something so large and thick into her).

She rested her chest against him, body but not resolve weakening, her movements slowing and his increasing. Adachi's body thrust upwards, slamming his cock in and out of her with a violent growl. Still unable to move his hands, he took the chance to sink his teeth into her neck, slicing the flesh into a bloody gash. The iron taste seeped onto his tongue as he shoved the organ into the wound, smearing red over porcelain with a satisfied, sinister grin.

Izanami screamed at discovering the fragility of her human shell, and hearing her in pain pushed him to orgasm. He filled the other's body with his seed, jerking forward to push out every drop of himself. To make sure her insides were coated with his cum—his mark. To signify that this belong him and that he'd be the one crushing lives without a second thought if she dared forget it for even a second.

The goddess panted, separating their bodies that had stuck together with sweat, and rose from him with shaky limbs.

"Well? Are you satisfied?" Magatsu Izanagi sneered, giving her a defiant look through half lidded eyes. His body was heaving with his breath, and her blood had already began to dry down his chin.

Izanami cautiously brushed her fingers over the deep bite in her neck. The flesh was still pulsing, pumping out fresh puddles of red that pooled in the open skin and streaked down her collarbone and onto her breast.

"No."

He thrashed the handcuffs against the bedframe. "Then fetch the keys to this contraption and allow me the use of my hands."


End file.
